by Kate Archer
“You could not look lovelier, my dear,” Lady Marksworth said.
Racine nodded as if seconding his mistress’s opinion.
They heard the distinctive clip-clop and stop of a carriage arriving and Racine threw open the doors.
The cold air rushed in and Cassandra was glad that Racine had the foresight to place braziers all around the hall.
Lord Dalton was the first to arrive and Cassandra could only be surprised by it. Of all the gentlemen of the pact, she would have expected him to be one of the last, pirate that he viewed himself to be.
She was much cheered to see Sybil and her mother and father, who had no need of a carriage as they were directly next door. Cassandra was certain that dear Sybil had hurried her parents along, knowing how nervous her friend must be on such a night.
Sybil squeezed her hand tight as they walked through.
Lord and Lady Sedway arrived and her old friend Anne looked just as elegant as ever. Cassandra began to calm her nerves; it was comforting to find so many friends already in the house.
Lord Lockwood and Lord Hampton arrived together. Cassandra began to think they must be particular friends as she had seen them so often together. Lord Hampton had appeared exceedingly reserved, even for him, and Cassandra had felt some sort of embarrassment at seeing him, though she could not pinpoint her feelings exactly.
Lords Cabot, Ashworth and Grayson all arrived on horseback. Lady Marksworth looked victorious—all six gentlemen of the pact had arrived, and they had arrived in good time. Cassandra, now that she viewed it, thought there was something odd in it. They had indeed arrived promptly. Why should these gentlemen be so eager to arrive? It was generally understood that a lady’s friends and family come at the designated hour and the rest of the guests begin arriving sometime after that. Single gentlemen were notorious for coming in at the last decent moment, all the while striking terror into their hostesses’ hearts. Why were they all so early?
Before she could contemplate it further, Lord and Lady Blakeley arrived. He appeared as dashing as ever, she wore a marvelous turban decorated with bright colored jewels. Though Lady Marksworth viewed the gentlemen of the pact as the coup of the evening, Cassandra thought it the reception of the Blakeleys. It was understood that they did not accept every invitation that came their way, they were the sort of couple that were so sought after that they could not, even if they’d wanted to. It was a testament to Lady Marksworth’s longstanding friendship with Lady Blakeley that they’d chosen to accept her invitation.
There was a lull in the arrivals which gave Cassandra a moment to catch her breath. She noticed a footman jogging up the steps. The boy handed a note to Racine, who brought it to Lady Marksworth.
She opened it and Cassandra noted her brow furrow.
“What is it, Aunt?”
Lady Marksworth said, “Lady Montague writes that she cannot attend after all. I am not surprised by it, or even disappointed, but I am surprised by her wording.”
“Why?” Cassandra asked in alarm. “What surprises you?”
“That she would have the nerve to reference gossip for one thing,” Lady Marksworth said, “and for another, she addresses me overly formally considering our long acquaintance. The thing is meant to insult and I believe I may cut her the next time I see her.”
“May I?” Cassandra asked, holding out her hand.
Lady Marksworth handed over the note and Cassandra scanned its contents.
Lady Marksworth,
In light of recent unfortunate events, it is of course impossible for me to attend you this evening. My sincerest regrets,
Harriet Downing
Cassandra understood the lady’s intent instantly. The words recent unfortunate events were clearly a reference to the gossip. Lady Montague wished to say that she could not see her way clear to notice a girl who had been so talked of.
Though she had been certain Lady Montague would not attend, and equally certain the lady would not approve of her, seeing it so clearly spelled out on paper was humiliating.
“Never mind, Cass,” Lady Marksworth said. “Do not allow bitter old Harriet to ruin your evening. She has spent a lifetime ruining countless evenings for countless other people and I should not like you to join that sad company.”
Cassandra considered her aunt’s view and was cheered by it. It was true the note was humiliating, but it was not public. Nobody would miss the lady, and nobody would know what she’d written.
The clatter of horses at a fast trot caught Cassandra’s attention. A carriage barreled down the road, the coachman pulling on the reins in front of the house. Lord Burke jumped down to the road before the vehicle had barely come to a stop.
He bounded up the steps breathless.
“Dear Lord Burke,” Lady Marksworth said, laughing. “Do not hurry so, you are in good time.”
“My haste is for good reason, Lady Marksworth,” Lord Burke said. “I must insist on a private interview with you and Miss Knightsbridge this instant. It is quite urgent.”
Cassandra felt her knees go weak. Never had she seen Lord Burke in such earnest. “Is it my father?” she cried.
“No, God no, nothing like that,” Lord Burke said hurriedly. “Where can we speak privately?”
Lady Marksworth paled. Racine said, “The small drawing room, my lady. I will make your excuses at the door and show your guests to the ballroom.”
Her aunt nodded, and Cassandra dazedly followed Lord Burke and Lady Marksworth into the small drawing room. After the door was closed, Lady Marksworth said, “Whatever is it, Lord Burke? Do not keep us in suspense.”
Though the lord had been in such a hurry to get them away to the drawing room, now that he had them away, he seemed not to know where to begin.
“It is not my father or any other terrible news from Surrey?” Cassandra asked. News that her father had been taken ill, or worse, was the only news she thought could absolutely terrify her. Though the lord had already denied it was so, she must have a confirmation.
“I have had no news at all from Surrey,” Lord Burke said, rubbing his hands and looking decidedly uncomfortable. “I come on another matter entirely. One that I was apprised of only a half hour ago. My mother sent for me and showed me a note that was delivered to one of her friends. That friend is not as highly placed as she, was terrified of its contents, and planned to acquiesce to its demands.”
Lord Burke pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Lady Marksworth. Cassandra leaned over and read it along with her aunt.
Jemima,
As I have informed others of my acquaintance, anybody being so reckless as to pay notice to a girl who has involved herself in three engagements behind the back of her father can no longer be noticed by me. I have full confidence you will not attend the girl’s ball at Marksworth House.
Harriet Downing
Chapter Eleven
Cassandra looked up from Lady Montague’s note. “What does it mean?” Cassandra said.
“It means,” Lord Burke said, “that Lady Montague has set out to ensure that very few people attend this ball. She knows she cannot hold sway over those such as the Blakeleys or my own mother, but she can hold sway over many. Though my mother had not planned on attending this evening, as she rarely attends balls, she sent for me to say that she would attend if necessary, to stand firm against Lady Montague’s scheme. I counseled that it would be best to take another course. Lady Marksworth, we must invent a ruse to cancel the ball immediately. It will be the only way to avert disaster.”
“Lord Burke,” Lady Marksworth said, “Nothing Lady Montague could get up to would surprise me, but we do not understand the note itself. What three engagements?”
Lord Burke paled. “Good Lord. You have not seen the print that has been everywhere.”
“If you mean the ridiculous illustration of the three gentlemen in the sky, we have seen it. It was thrown through our window, in fact. However, that is a reference to Lords Hampton, Lockwood and As
hworth choosing to escort us from the park after a certain rude gentleman made a coarse remark to my niece. It has nothing at all to do with any engagement.”
Lord Burke appeared thoroughly confused. “Hampton, Lockwood and Ashworth? No, Lady Marksworth. That is not who the gentlemen are meant to be. It is said that Miss Knightsbridge was secretly engaged to three gentlemen in Surrey, and that the three all met on the road to her estate. When they discovered each other, all three broke off with the lady.”
If Cassandra’s knees had felt weak when Lord Burke had first arrived, now they positively could not hold her up. She sank down onto a sofa.
What was this? What three gentlemen? What engagements?
Lady Marksworth held herself straight. She appeared furious. “I see. And do we know who the author of this wretched business might be? I am certain her father would call the scoundrel out at dawn.”
“That I do not know,” Lord Burke said.
“Is there any other story associated with this nonsense?” Lady Marksworth asked.
Lord Burke turned his face away.
“I see that there is,” Lady Marksworth said. “Out with it, if you please, my lord.”
Lord Burke heavily sighed. “As is the nature of gossip, at times there is talk of there being four or five gentlemen, rather than three. And, it is said, that Miss Knightsbridge has a particular facility with a shotgun and her father is terrified of her.”
Now it was Lady Marksworth’s turn to sink to the sofa. “And Lady Montague has seen fit to take full advantage of these malicious stories.”
“My lady,” Lord Burke said. “I know what I have communicated has come at a great shock, but we must act quickly. The later it gets, the more apparent that Lady Montague has succeeded.”
Lady Marksworth straightened her back, as if firming her resolve. “What do you suggest we do?” she asked.
“It is just this—I will run from this room and claim that Miss Knightsbridge has fainted and does not wake. I will tell your butler to send down a lady’s maid. We will send for a doctor, my own man who I can trust. Lady Marksworth, you will make the announcement that the evening is cancelled. It is the only way forward.”
Cassandra thought it might not be a lie to say that she had fainted and would not wake. She very much wished that it was so. The truth of what had occurred was so terrible that it could not be faced—oblivion would be a blessing.
All along, she had thought the gossip that swirled round her had to do with shooting a gun and the three lords escorting her home. But this was a thousand times worse! It spoke to her character!
“Truly,” Lord Burke said urgently, “there is not a moment to lose.”
Lady Marksworth stood. “I believe you are right, Lord Burke, and I thank you for assisting us at this terrible hour. As soon as the lady’s maid arrives, I will inform the guests. Do insist on Clara, not Peggy. Go and do your work.”
Lord Burke looked much relieved and fairly flew from the room. Cassandra could not hold her feelings back longer and began to sob.
Her aunt sat by her and put an arm round her shoulder. “There now, you must not give in to your feelings this moment. There will be plenty of time later, but just now we must play our parts.”
Cassandra nodded and willed herself to stop her tears. Lady Marksworth was right—there would be endless amounts of time to cry, but not right now.
“Lay down and close your eyes. You must appear in a faint in case anybody sees you when the door opens to admit Clara. Do not worry about my maid, she can keep a thing to herself. Peggy, I am not so sure of, and so I advise allowing her to know nothing.”
Cassandra nodded, and then closed her eyes.
*
As events transpired outside the door, Cassandra lay there with Clara holding her hand, hearing bits and pieces of it. She distinctly heard Lord Hampton suggest he send for his own doctor, only to be denied by Lady Marksworth. Sybil asked if she might come in, but Lady Marksworth said it would be time enough on the morrow for a visit.
Had they all heard the story? It seemed impossible that the six gentlemen of the pact had not heard all that had been said. It must be the talk of every gentlemen’s club. Had they come with an eye toward amusement? It would not surprise her to know that they were well aware of Lady Montague’s salvo and had come to see how it would all unfold. They would look upon it as a jolly bit of fun to be discussed the following day. Certainly, that was the cause of their very early arrival, they would not wish to miss anything of this disaster.
Suddenly, she understood Mr. Conners’ untoward behavior in the park, his bizarre challenge to a race. He’d had the nerve to treat her as less than a lady as he believed she’d conducted herself as less than a lady.
How had this all happened? When she’d thought the three gentlemen depicted on the print were Hampton, Lockwood and Ashworth, it had only seemed as if some person had put two disparate ideas into one illustration. She’d owned to skill with a gun and the three gentlemen had escorted her from the park. But where on earth had the idea of the three engagements in Surrey originated? There was no truth that could account for it, even if that truth were to be stretched beyond recognition.
Cassandra felt she would truly faint. She wished it with all her heart. Anything to be away from this dreadful scene.
*
Edwin had been alarmed at the news of Miss Knightsbridge fainting. Not so much because she fainted, ladies had ever been in the habit of doing so, but because she would not wake. He had some vague idea that a waving of smelling salts was all that was required to bring a lady back to the present.
His alarm had reached new heights after speaking with Burke. Hampton had directed all the gentlemen of the pact to turn up in force. He’d thought it would send a clear message to all who attended Lady Marksworth’s ball.
He’d never imagined that most others would not attend due to Lady Montague’s directive. He’d never imagined Lady Montague would dare issue such a directive. She was a spiteful old thing and feared by enough of society to have her will. That she did not dare attempt to influence him or his friends came as no surprise, Lady Montague wielded her iron fist down, never up.
Burke told him Miss Knightsbridge had barely held up upon hearing what was said of her. Until this very night, she’d had no idea of any talk of three broken engagements. The further blow delivered—that very few would come to her ball—had felled her and she did not wake. All along, Burke said, she had thought the print to be representative of a meeting in the park with Hampton, Lockwood and Ashworth after Mr. Conners’ untoward suggestion of a race. That might have been upsetting, but in no way reached the heights of the humiliation of the real story that had gone round.
Now, she knew the truth. What a poison they had unleashed upon the lady!
What was to be the end of it? The rumors he’d thought they could counter with some effort could not be subdued. Lady Montague’s stance was determined and there were few who would dare to cross her.
Miss Knightsbridge would receive dwindling invitations going forward. Even less marriage proposals. Perhaps no marriage proposals at all. What gentleman, even if she had the means of meeting him at a gathering, would gladly suffer the notoriety of finding himself the fourth gentleman engaged to the lady? What gentleman would risk being ostracized by Lady Montague for marrying her? What family would welcome it?
Through their own selfishness, he and his friends had ruined a lady. He had ruined the lady.
The truth must come out. They must own what they did. He and his friends were low and self-interested—all should know that they were the worst sort of people, regardless of what titles they might hold.
Edwin paused. They must do more than just own being the cause of this disaster. They must atone for it. He must atone for it. But how?
He knew how. He knew the only certain thing he might do to reestablish Miss Knightsbridge in society. To give her a rightful place in it. To ensure that she was treated with the respect she deserved.
To firmly and finally shut the mouths of Lady Montague and her ilk.
He must marry Miss Knightsbridge.
What a pass he had come to! This terrible circumstance had begun with a hope to avoid the state and now he was honor-bound to accomplish it.
Still, if he was to live with himself, it must be done.
*
The house had grown very quiet and Cassandra had been carried up the stairs by two footmen under the watchful eyes of Racine and Clara. Peggy had been sent below stairs, the girl too prone to talk, while Lady Marksworth attended Lord Burke and waited for his physician. Cassandra understood the physician would be told the truth, that she had no illness but that of spirit, but he could be trusted and would be seen coming and going—it would bolster the idea of her sudden illness.
Where had the story of the three engagements come from? She’d had no particular suitors in Surrey. She’d bestowed no singular interest on any gentleman.
Was a lady to be ruined simply because some mean-spirited person decided to invent a tale? How was that possible? Who would do it? She had not made enemies of anybody that she knew of.
Yet, there was someone out there who harbored a hatred of her.
Cassandra had known London was another world, that she would need guidance to wend her way through. She had never imagined it was a sea of piranhas, though it appeared that was precisely what it was. She had waded in and sharp teeth had torn her to shreds.
As she’d lain on the sofa, gazing at the hem of her gown and waiting for the few guests who had arrived to take their leave, her aunt had spoken to her in soft and gentle tones. Lady Marksworth had mulled over various steps to be taken, but in the end, Cassandra had her way. She wished to go home. She wished to go on the morrow at first light.
Lady Marksworth would take her in her carriage and Peggy would stay behind to pack up her things. It was essential that she leave this horrid town. She must see her father and her dog and have all the familiar comforts of home surrounding her. She would miss Sybil, but she suspected that was all she would miss of this place. In any case, had she decided to stay, she must part with Sybil. The rumors had gone too far to allow her friend to be tainted by them, as brave and stalwart as that friend was.
